


Synthetic Sympathy

by The_Epitome_of_Pretense



Series: The Sole Saga [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Robot/Human Relationships, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 18:58:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19382788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Epitome_of_Pretense/pseuds/The_Epitome_of_Pretense
Summary: On the hunt for the Eddie Winter tapes, Nick and Sole make a heart-wrenching discovery.





	Synthetic Sympathy

Nick pushed aside the rusted blue door of the BADTFL and peered inside. The groan of old hinges echoed through the building. A few spotlights illuminated the space, but all signs indicated that the raiders had long since moved out. 

“Looks clear,” he murmured.

Sole followed him inside. 

“What a cozy spot,” she said. “I can’t imagine why they would leave.”

“Eh, you know how the property values are these days.”

“Of course,” she chuckled.

Nick scanned the room again to be sure. After finding nothing suspicious, he holstered his gun and let his eyes trace leisurely over the wreckage. It almost brought back memories. He struggled to recall anything precise, but the air was thick with old feelings. Most of them bad. Others less so. 

“So this was the Bureau of Alcohol, Drugs, Tobacco…” Sole counted them off on her fingers. “And what else? I can never remember the rest.”

“It’s alcohol, drugs, tobacco, firearms, and lasers,” he said, then grumbled, almost to himself, “Been a while since I’ve dropped by.”

Sole regarded a sign on the wall. 

“Talk about a confusing string of letters,” she said. “How do you think it’s pronounced?”

“Me and the other guys would joke around sometimes and call it ‘bad-tuffle.’”

“That’s it? Not ‘bahd-too-flay?’”

He almost laughed. It wasn’t her best joke in his opinion, but it was better than the lingering gloom.  

“No, sadly we weren’t that fancy,” he said.

“Either way, a building full of booze and smokes and chems sounds like a hell of a place to party.”

Nick tried to imagine her in a scene like that; the more he thought about it, the more ludicrous it seemed. Unless she was there to make sure no one tried to drive home drunk.

“I seriously doubt I’d find you at that kind of party,” he said.

“You don’t know.”

“Oh yes I do. I don’t believe for a second that you ever got in trouble.” 

“Believe it, bucko,” she elbowed him. “I was a real live wire back in the day. A regular bad girl. Always getting up to shenanigans.”  

“Shenanigans, huh?” he smirked. 

“Some tomfoolery too.”

“Any funny business?”

“Lots. Even caused a ruckus once.”

“Oh, well that changes things. I don’t know if I can be friends with a gal who has such a shady past.”

“Say it ain’t so, Mr. Valentine, say it ain’t so,” she said, adding a dramatic flair to her tone.

A desperate sadness came over her eyes; though he knew she was pretending, the sight made him want to cheer her up. 

“Alright, I’ll let it slide,” he said, elbowing her back. “This time.”

She gave him a wry smile, then led the way deeper into the disheveled building. 

After thoroughly searching for any remaining threats, going through the cabinets, and snatching a well-aged bottle of wine from the storage room, they took one last sweep through the office area. They still had not found the Eddie Winter tape. Nick crossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his sleeve. He didn’t want to let on how frustrating it all was.

“Question,” Sole said.

“Yeah?”

“You cops kept pretty good records of things, right?”

“Right.”

“Records that might be found on this terminal right here?”

She pointed a thumb at a nearby desk, upon which sat a still-intact terminal. In his search for the holotape, he had overlooked the tech’s faint glow. He shrugged.

“Worth a shot,” he said. 

Sole nodded and settled herself before the screen. The sound of keystrokes calmed him somewhat; the goings were slow, but at least they were making some progress. 

“Ah-ha! It says here that the tape is in the evidence room,” she said. “We must have missed it the first time.”

“Nice detective work.”

“Yeah, I guess I have to get something right once in a while.”

“Give yourself a little more credit than that. Come on, let’s go get that tape.”

“You go on ahead. I want to fool around on this terminal a little bit more.”

“Suit yourself.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way to the evidence room. He looked back over his shoulder more than once. Part of him was uneasy about poking around the place without someone to watch his back. Not that it ever stopped him before; being uneasy just came with the job. But that wasn’t why he kept glancing back; though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he hoped to see Sole there. 

He shook his head and forced himself to focus. After a few minutes of searching, he saw that tell-tale orange in the shadows beneath the files. He pocketed it and went back to Sole. 

“Found it,” he said. “Damn thing was hiding under the file cabinet.”

Sole didn’t reply. There was something different about the set of her shoulders: a tension, a faint arch. 

“You alright?” he said. 

“They knew,” she said, her voice quavering. 

“What?”

“They knew you were in danger. They could have saved Jennifer.” 

“What are you talking about?”

She stepped aside and pointed to the terminal screen. 

“Look,” she said.

He stepped closer and squinted at the string of letters. 

 

CASE LOG 155-H-109 - BADTFL INFORMANT SUMMARY 

Picking up a lot of chatter recently from Eddie Winter's boys asking after a Jennifer Lands of South Boston. Ran background on the name and turns out she's engaged to Nick Valentine, one of the Detectives running Operation Winter's End.

Request made to supervisors to fast-track the two of them for witness protection (or at least inform them of danger) but request was denied. Higher-ups don't want to compromise ongoing BADTFL investigation.

 

Nick could do nothing but stare at the screen. He read the lines over and over again. He didn’t want it to be true. But there it was, plain as day, spelled out nice and neat, as if order was the most important thing. As if those words had not condemned his bride. 

He felt as though the floor had been ripped out from beneath him. Agonizing memories hit him in full-force. It had been bad enough knowing that his involvement with the case had killed the woman he loved. Finding out that his superiors had not lifted a finger to save her—that they considered the case more important—it was almost like losing her all over again. If they had told him at least, he could have done something. She wouldn’t have bled out on the street, alone and scared. 

He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his brow. He could not let himself go down that path again. He needed to stay focused. 

Sole stifled a gasp. He looked over to find that her shoulders were shaking, her head bowed, her hand pressed to her face. Tears dripped over her fingers.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong?” he said. 

She sniffed and wiped her tears on her sleeve. 

“They should have protected you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She clutched the desk as her breath caught yet again. It was bad enough that he had to deal with this new information; he couldn’t stand seeing her upset about it, too. The urge to gather her into his arms nearly overcame him. Instead, he dug through his pockets and found his handkerchief. It was spotted with oil and rust, but he turned out a clean side, stepped closer to her, and gently lifted her chin. Her eyes flashed to his. He raced to think of something to say that could make her feel better. He touched away the tear rolling down her cheek. 

“I know I got dealt a bad hand,” he said. “But I count myself lucky. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a friend like you to help me out. We’ll get Winter yet.”

She nodded. More tears gathered in her eyes; she looked away and let out a sob.

“I’m just—I’m so angry,” she said. “They had the power to save her. They could have saved you both—but they made you—they made you watch her die—” 

She sobbed again. 

Then it hit him. His situation wasn’t the only thing she had to cry about. No, he wasn’t there when Jenny died; nobody made him watch. That was one horror he didn’t have to live with. But Sole did. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached out and took her by the arms. He wanted to pull her close—everything in him wanted to hold her the way he had in Dr. Amari’s lab. To press her to his chest, to feel her breath, her warmth. To keep her wrapped up until the tears stopped. 

He hesitated. The idea thrilled him too much. What was he thinking? Here he was, tracking down Jenny’s murderer, letting himself get distracted by a fleeting urge. It was wrong.

He kept Sole at arm’s length. 

“I’m sorry to get so emotional over this,” she said.

“It’s alright,” he said. “That fact that you care at all means more than you know.”

“I can’t be the only one.”

She met his eyes. There was that look again—that desperate sadness that made him want to move the world if it would make her happy—only this time it was real. The sight nearly broke his resolve. He let out a breath and steadied himself. 

“Well. A lot of folks think that being made of metal makes you tough as nails,” he said. “Truth be told, I’m a mess half of the time.”

She gave a little smile.

“I guess that makes two of us,” she said.

If tears made him want to hold her, a smile like that made him want to kiss her. It almost hurt how bad he wanted to. He dropped his hands before the feeling could get the best of him. He cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” he said. “We should probably get going. The rest of those tapes aren’t going to find themselves.”

“Right, right,” she said, wiping away the last of her tears. “I think we’ll all feel a lot better once that guy is done for.”

Nick followed her out of the building. He hoped she was right; after all these years, he was more than ready to put his mind at ease. Yet he knew that wouldn’t be the end to his troubles. He had a suspicion—more than a suspicion—that this new dilemma would only get worse as time went by. He grumbled a sigh. He knew that it would be an easy fix to part ways as soon as they had finished the job. 

He also knew he wouldn’t do it. 

He let the rusted door slam shut behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers,  
> Sorry I haven't been updating much lately. I've been working on some other big projects and my Nick fics have somewhat been put on the back burner. To make matters worse, I feel like I'm struggling to reach the same emotional depth that my other works have. I'm not super thrilled with how this one turned out, tbh. Oh well. Sometimes you just have to post a dud and move on.


End file.
